


Classics in Eight Colors

by coldfiredragon



Series: Shoulder to Shoulder [4]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: 'Shoulder to Shoulder With You' future fic, Boys In Love, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Fluff and Angst, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Spoilers, a day in the life, implied character deaths, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: Quentin figures out the mosaic puzzle in the middle of the second year, but it takes him till the third anniversary to put his thoughts into words.





	Classics in Eight Colors

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion future fic to my long story 'Shoulder to Shoulder With You' there will be spoilers to that story that I haven't revealed yet, but the big one is an obvious end game, so it shouldn't be much of a surprise. 
> 
> That said, this can technically be read as a stand-alone. 
> 
> Spoilers ahead.....
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> Enjoy the story.

Quentin figures out the mosaic puzzle about two years into working on it, but it takes him until the third anniversary to put his thoughts into words. The rain beaded against Finnigan's floating canopy, and Quentin remembers a night that felt like a lifetime ago when he'd said yes to something that seemed small at the time, and opened the door to a million maybes. He wonders how closely that anniversary lines up with this one.

“I think I figured out the puzzle.” He tells Eliot as they lay together. The sun had started to set. The tiles below the blanket they had spread out were still giving off a pleasant warmth from having baked in the sun all day. He's spent the last six months or so watching Eliot design patterns reminiscent of classic paintings, and if he ever gets back to Earth to see the originals, he's going to remember them as mosaics in eight colors, because those are the versions that he and Eliot built together. He's saved the chalk drawings so he can look back on them after the puzzle has been rebuilt to something new. 

“Oh?” Eliot raises up onto his elbows and brings his flask to his lips so he can watch him. 

“I don't think it has a solution. I think we just live out our lives together, right here, and its the sum of that life lived that will make the mosaic that matters.” Eliot tips the flask against his mouth again then hands it off to him. The silence stretches between them. 

“Please tell me you aren't just figuring that out now because I figured that out the first year.” 

“No.” Quentin blinks away tears of relief. “I just didn't know how to say it. I was worried you would want to stop if I did.” Eliot rolls against him and rests his cheek on Quentin's shoulder. 

“If you don't want this we can leave in the morning. We'll track down the Winter Doe and make her send us forward in time.” 

“No!” Quentin shifts so he can press his lips against Eliot's forehead. “I want a life where I get to grow old with you. We have magic, and Jane with her watch and time loops won't exist for decades to try and stop us. There isn't a Beast; there aren't fairies. Fillory isn't falling apart. We get to grow old in a home we love. It's just us, El, us and whoever we invite into our lives.” Eliot's head ducks so his lips can press to Quentin's throat, then he shifts even closer so they can kiss. 

“I've wanted the chance to grow old with you since the moment I proposed to you, even though I thought at the time that we probably wouldn't live longer than a week.” 

“We beat odds that were astronomically stacked against us,” Quentin whispers. The number of times where he had almost died, or Eliot had nearly slipped through his fingers fit onto more than one hand. 

“I don't think I ever said it, but that Summer we spent together in the cottage probably saved my life. It... _You_ made me look forward again, instead of constantly over my shoulder. If I hadn't had something to fight for I probably would have come to Fillory looking to die.”

“El,” Quentin rolls over him and pins Eliot against the blanket and the stone. He laces one hand into Eliot's hair and grips the back of his neck with the other. Eliot's hand matches the grip. The gold band around one of his husband's fingers is warm against the skin. The kiss breaks when they are breathless. “We earned this, El.” The puzzle would be an endless source of frustration because he knew neither of them would stop working on it, but they had lived through so many near misses. If this was the last leg of the quest that they completed before handing it off to someone else he was okay with that. 

“We can send Bambi the keys as a wedding present.” Quentin laughs because he'd been thinking almost the same thing. 

Thinking about Margo makes them both fall silent. Quentin wonders if she will forgive them. It wasn't like they had stumbled into the past knowing what would happen. Rain starts to patter against his back, and Quentin realizes that neither of them has refreshed Finnigan's Canopy. He kisses salt and sweet Fillorian rainwater from Eliot's face

“I miss her too.” He whispers.

“We just abandoned her.” Eliot murmurs. “God knows what bastard the fairy Queen forced on her.”

“Margo will put him in his place.” He rests his face against Eliot's throat. Regret is part of life, and not being able to get back to the proper time in Fillory's history is always going to be one of theirs. “If we can get this key our friends can finish the rest of the quest. They'll get magic back, and that paste-pale bitch won't know what hit her.” 

“Yeah.” It's raining just enough to make Quentin's hair start to lie limp, and Eliot's fingers comb damp locks back behind his ears. The side of the quilt comes up over his shoulders, and Quentin ducks his head to kiss Eliot's throat. He tugs the buttons of Eliot's tunic open so that he can lick rain droplets away from his collarbone. His lips worship the bite mark he'd made the morning they had gotten engaged until Eliot moans and squirms below him. 

“I'm glad it was just the two of us who came through the clock.” Quentin nods, if the clock hadn't spit the key onto the floor, they would have rounded up the whole group and all of them would have been stuck in the past. It wouldn't be the intimate future that seemed to be unfolding before them. Eliot's fingers flick and torches flame to life around them. The night retreats and Quentin lifts his head enough to memorize how the firelight warms Eliot's pale face. 

“I love you so much.” He whispers. He has no idea what in store for them. They could easily be wrong about the puzzle and solve it tomorrow, or a week from now. Quentin hopes they're right, and it takes them a lifetime. 

\-------------------------

As the pile of gifts starts to dwindle around her Margo's eyes land on a box that doesn't match the rest. It's old. The wrapping, while grand enough to fit in at a royal wedding, is faded and it sparks her curiosity more than anything else in the pile. She brings it into her lap and tugs at the bow, then sits the lid aside. A letter sits on top of a collection of drawings, and something stammers in her chest when she recognizes Quentin's handwriting. When he and Eliot hadn't shown up to stop, or at least support, the wedding she had believed they were stuck on Earth without magic. Her fingers shake as she lifts out the letter and opens it. It's pages long, but she only makes it about halfway through a page before her eyes cloud with tears. They can't be dead. 

When she can read again, she does. She reads through the first two pages twice, memorizing the details of the beautiful life her best friends had managed to stumble into by accident. The last page is all about the key, and what she'll have to do to continue the quest they died trying to complete. Of course, it leads to Jane. Everything in their lives somehow leads back to Jane, and Margo is going to put that bitch in the ground if she refuses to give up the key. 

Margo folds the letter and sets it aside, and starts going through the mosaic drawings. She had never obsessed over art the way El had, but she recognizes some of them. There are dozens of classics recreated in small dashes of eight colors. Too soon the pictures are gone, and she finds the second envelope at the bottom. It's heavier than the one on top and when she tips it a key and two rings slide into her hand. Their rings make it all real. Margo hides the key and lays the mosaics back in the box. Her hand forms a fist around the small gold bands, and she feels eight tiny chips of ruby press into her skin. 

She doubles over her lap and sobs. The wedding had been so draining, and now she has to shoulder the key quest too. Another sob shakes her. She wants to hate both of them. She wants to hate them because they found an escape that won't come so easily for her, but deep down she can't argue with Quentin's heartfelt letter. After everything he and Eliot had been through they had deserved their quiet life. 

The grief hardens her. She'll find a way to see the quest through, and when she and their remaining friends get magic back, they are going to feast on fairy heart and drink their blood like it's an expensive wine. The title Eliot gave her the day the three of them took the thrones has never felt apter.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love! There are tons of teases to the future of 'Shoulder to Shoulder' feel free to tear this apart and make as many guesses as you like!


End file.
